


Flash of Genius

by truthiness_lover



Category: Fake News, Fake News RPF
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truthiness_lover/pseuds/truthiness_lover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a not-so-freak accident, Stephen Colbert finds himself all alone in a hospital bed... until Jon Stewart comes to visit.  Stephen is stricken with amnesia, and doesn't recognize his wife or children:  only Jon.  Jon decides to come to the rescue once again to help his friend gain his memory back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stephen Colbert had worked painstakingly for over fifteen minutes to get that damned picture straight. Well, his newest diploma straightly framed on the wall of his cluttered office, to be exact. The newest edition was an honorary degree from the prestigious Harvard University, and the oak-framed symbol of his high status would not hang straight on the nail on the light cream-colored wall. He stood on his black leather rolling chair next to his steel desk and fiddle around with it until he was under the impression that it looked most satisfactory, until he jumped down to find that either the left or right side was slightly off-kilter. He paused for a moment to stand back and frame it with his hands just as a talented film director would frame up a complex shot, then silently curse as he would hop up to the higher level again.

Jon Stewart waltzed by his good friend's office just as he was about to stand up on the desk for the umpteenth time. He was paying him sort-of a surprise visit for Stephen's birthday, May 13th, with a wrapped gift and a frosted cupcake in hand. He and the other Daily Show correspondents were set to film a Colbert Report segment together that day. He rapped loudly on the door frame, which made Stephen jump and almost take a long tumble to the charcoal-carpeted floor.

"Jon…?" Stephen pressed as he whirled around and nearly dropped the frame.

"I just wanted to tell you happy birthday!" he said with a smirk while offering the chocolate cupcake covered in swirls of blue butter cream frosting and topped off with a small plastic ring. The ring was a cheap replica of the Lord of the Rings series that Stephen loved so much, so why the hell not?

"What's all this? A cupcake? Are you trying to make me a diabetic or just fat?" he joked without cracking a smile.

"I don't believe we were shooting for either," Jon chuckled as he lit the candle in the center.

"Am I supposed to make a wish?"

"Wish away, buddy."

Stephen closed his chocolate-brown eyes tightly and seemed to be entranced in thought for a moment before he opened them and met Jon's gaze. He blew out the flame in a strong puff, and watched the intricate swirl of gray smoke uncurl into the air.

"Hopefully it won't set off the sprinklers," he laughed.

"What did you wish for?"

"I can't tell. Everyone knows that… I want it to come true!"

"Okay, if you want to play it that way. But if you get so old and senile where you can't remember what you wished for, don't come crying to me."

"Trust me, I won't. You're two years older than I am, anyway."

Jon facepalmed as Stephen unwrapped the delicious, overly-decorated cupcake. He carefully ripped it in half symmetrically and held up a half for Jon.

"Do you want half of this?"

Jon hadn't had anything for breakfast besides a cup of coffee, so he gratefully accepted. As he took the first bite, a blob of blue-dyed frosting smeared across his lower lip.

"That was unfortunate."

Jon quickly reached up and swiped it away quickly with the back of his right hand. He laughed.

They finished the cupcake together in utter silence, occasionally looking at each other and giggling like naughty schoolboys. Jon stood up from his seat at the edge of the metal desk and threw the cupcake wrapper into the trashcan by the door.

"Nothing but net," he scoffed as the wrapper went in.

"Thanks again for all this, Jon. The cupcake was really good," he said in an almost childlike voice as he licked frosting off his fingertips.

"Oh! I almost forgot…"

"You're getting senile already?"

"No," Jon retorted, "Tracey and I got you a present."

He handed Stephen the loosely-wrapped blue gift bag with a smile.

"The kids wanted to wrap it for Uncle Stephen."

"Aww, that's sweet."

Stephen unwrapped the bag slowly and reached into a mass of tissue paper to find a small wooden box.

"What's this?" he asked with a crookedly raised eyebrow. He carefully opened the lid to find a beautiful gold watch.

"Come on, Jon, you guys didn't have to do this!"

"We wanted to! You're one of our closest friends! Here, just look at the back…"

Stephen turned over the smooth watch face in his hand and read the message engraved in the gold.

"To my friend, Stephen. Try not to choke on that banana," he read aloud.

Stephen began laughing so hard that he snorted at the engraving.

"It all happened all those years ago with the banana gag and we're still talking about it?"

"That was one of my favorite moments of all the years I've been here… when you broke character like that."

"Thanks, Jon… it really means a lot," he said as he uncharacteristically leaned over to his dear friend and enveloped him in a hug.

"You're welcome, Stephen," he said as he stood up from the desk and headed for the door.

"Jon… wait, can you help me quick?"

"Yeah… with what?"

"I need you to tell me if the picture is straight when I hang it, I've been trying to hang this for the past half hour."

"So… maybe we should have bought you a laser level instead of a gold watch?" Jon joked.

Without another word, Stephen stepped onto the rolling desk chair with the framed diploma in hand as he carefully and accurately hung it on its nail on the first try. He stood to the side to admire his work, and Jon cocked his head to glance at it.

"That looks straight enough to me."

Stephen hopped down again, stood next to Jon, and did the classic "Spielberg" move to view the frame.

"I don't know… it looks to be leaning a little to the left to me."

"Everything always leans a little too far to the left for you… politically…"

"Ha, ha. Very funny. I'm going to try to fix it one more time."

"Why? It looks perfectly stra…" Jon began as Stephen jumped on the desktop again. He fiddled with it again for his conservative liking, then did a quarter turn to face Jon.

"Now is it straight?"

"I can't really see it… move out of the way a little."

Jon wished he never had said that as Stephen tried to step away from his masterpiece and the chair slid out from underneath him. He crashed down seemingly in slow motion. Jon's breath caught the back of his throat as he heard the crunch of both the glass of the frame and Stephen's glasses scatter across the floor. When Jon opened his eyes again, he was horrified at what he witnessed: Stephen's forehead connected with the corner of the cold, steel desk with a horrible thud, and now he was lifeless on the charcoal-shaded floor.

"Oh my God! Stephen!" he gasped as he watched a stream of crimson blood stain his forehead from a three-inch long wound. He immediately collapsed to the floor next to him as he loosened the blue tie around his neck. Stephen's eyes were closed, and a piece of glass from the frame was embedded in his hand. Jon was usually queasy around blood, but something just kicked into action once he saw his suffering friend. Jon whipped out his silk purple pocket square from his black suit jacket and placed it directly on the wound, making sure to keep even pressure on it just like he had seen in all those videos in health class in junior high.

"Stephen… stay with me, buddy," he yelled as he lightly tapped the sides of his face. Stephen was unresponsive, and Jon knew he needed someone else in the office to call 911.

"HELP!" he screamed shrilly. It was so ear-splitting that it was impossible for at least one person not to hear it.

Luckily, John Oliver burst into the office with a horrified expression.

"Jon, was that just y…" his voice trailed off once he saw the blood-soaked area. "Oh my God! Is that Stephen?"

"Call 911!" Jon huffed as he hovered over his friend's lifeless body. His face was now incredibly pale, and his gorgeously soft, usually pink lips were now paste white.

John immediately grabbed his cell phone and dialed while his fingers fumbled with the digits.

Shit, Stephen! Wake up! You can't die on your birthday! Jon thought.

Jon felt Stephen's breathing patterns become increasingly shallow as blood dripped from his forehead to the collar of his clean white shirt as it had already soaked through the makeshift bandage. Jon swiped away the beads of sweat on his forehead with a swipe of his arm before he leaned down to listen to Stephen's heart beating.

If the ambulance comes soon, he'll be okay. Jon assured.

"We have a man here, and I think he hit his head pretty hard, and he's losing a lot of blood!" John yelled at the dispatcher.

"Okay, sir, I'm sending an ambulance," the woman on the other line reported, "But just keep him still and find a new bandage!"

Stephen's once smiling and energetic face now looked pale and sickly, and Jon could hardly bear to look at him. John rushed down the hallway with the phone still pressed to his ear as he searched for the first aid kit that was positioned on the wall.

It seemed like an eternity to Jon until John Oliver returned with that damned kit. John finally arrived with enough bandages to rewrap a mummy as he knelt down by Stephen.

"I'll bandage his hand!" he said as he pulled at the roll of medical tape.

Jon grabbed a stack of gauze and carefully removed the other bandage to place the white material over the cut. It would be enough until the professionals arrived, anyway. John had dispatched Samantha Bee to lead the EMTs upstairs to get Stephen.

"Just hang in there… someone is coming to take you to the hospital," Jon soothed as he wiped Stephen's unruly dark brown hair away from his forehead.

Ten minutes later, the emergency specialists had taken Stephen away to a hospital about six blocks away while he was strapped to a stretcher with bandages wrapped around his head and hand. He had lost so much blood that the medical team reported to Jon that he'd probably require a blood transfusion, and he had suffered a severe concussion but they left so abruptly that Jon couldn't ask any more questions. Jon left the office as the janitors arrived to clean up the blood stains on the carpet, and he silently wished that he could just be there with Stephen to at least hold his hand in that ambulance so he wouldn't be so frightened by all those blaring sirens and flashing lights.

"Jon," John Oliver pulled him aside as he poured himself a cool cup of water from the water cooler, "Your clothes are soaked with blood… you should go change."

Jon looked down at his well-cut suit to find that it was now splattered in Stephen's blood. It made him almost sick to his stomach, and he couldn't think about anything else. He finally agreed to go take a shower to get cleaned up, and then he could take a walk down to the hospital to see how Stephen was doing.

It truly sickened Jon to see all the blood that he rinsed off down the drain in the shower. He quickly stepped out and got dressed, and without combing his dampened silver hair, he headed out to the hospital.

Jon had walked to the medical center seemingly on autopilot, because he had no recollection on his trip over there. He could have walked out in the middle of a crosswalk when the neon sign read, "DON'T WALK" for all he knew, all he cared about was getting to Stephen.

"Is there a St…Stephen Colbert here?" he stuttered to the middle-aged brunette secretary.

"Um… let me check…" she typed into her computer until she raised an eyebrow, "Yes, there is a Stephen ColberT on this list, but here it says that he is still being examined."

"Where's the nearest waiting room?"

"There's a waiting room right in the emergency wing, so you can wait there," she said as she pointed him in the right direction.

"Thanks," he said as he stumbled away.

"Are you family?" she caught him.

"Yeah…" Jon lied, "I'm his… brother."

"Well, then I can have the doctor notify you when you can see him if you'd like."

"Thanks, please do."

He walked away feeling no remorse about lying to the woman. No one else had showed up yet to see how he was doing, and everyone at the office told him to report back, so he figured out a way. His mind all of a sudden hit a roadblock.

Oh my God, Evie still doesn't know! he gasped, referring to Stephen's wife.

Jon looked at his watch to notice that it had already been two hours since the accident happened and his wife was still left in the dark about it. He decided to step outside for a moment to call John to have someone tell her, because he was just to emotionally distraught. He didn't want to terrify her, after all. Jon's fingers were barely able to type the numbers on the keypad, and his hand was trembling horribly as he waited for John to pick up.

"Have you heard anything yet?" John asked immediately.

"Not yet. They're still examining him, but did anyone call Evie yet?"

"Yeah, Samantha called her. She's on her way."

"I don't want her to freak out!" Jon cried.

"Just be there to comfort her when she shows up. I'm sure Stephen will be fine, anyway."

"I hope so, John," he said softly as he hung up.

He headed back inside to the emergency waiting room, where he was greeted by numerous screaming children accompanied by their parents and battered men that looked like they had gotten into a bar fight. He looked around for a seat, and picked to sit in the corner directly opposite of the television hanging in the other corner of the room. He wasn't going to draw attention to himself, especially in case someone recognized him. He grabbed an old issue of Time magazine and pretended to read to hide the lone tear that was streaming down his cheek.

Stephen Colbert was not in good shape. His face was battered by the sharp edge of the metal desk and the shards of broken glass had caused numerous lacerations on his body that in total required more than 40 stitches. His head was in the worst pain ever, and he could barely keep his tired eyes open through all the throbbing. And, to top it all off, he had broken his left wrist for the second time in his life, only this time it was much more painful than the first. Luckily, they had given him plenty of strong pain medication to keep him from crying in front of the pretty nurses. The first person on his mind was Jon, because his soothing voice was the last he had heard before drifting off into unconsciousness.

He was suddenly pulled from the darkness as he heard a deep male voice saying his name.

Stephen? Stephen? Mr. ColberT? The doctor droned. All of a sudden, his eyelids were yanked upward and a flash of bright light entered his pupils. He felt like reaching up and punching the prick who was doing that, but he couldn't move. He flicked his eyes open and his gaze met his doctor's.

Good, Stephen. Very good. He's waking up! the buffoon reported.

Stephen's throat felt extremely dry, but he still uttered something to the doctors and nurses who were hovering over him.

"It's Colbert," he spoke the French pronunciation through gritted teeth. His voice was reduced to a whisper, so none of them actually heard him.

"How are you feeling, Mr. ColberT?"

"Water…" he gasped.

"Right," the man said as he grabbed a paper cup of water and a nurse pressed a button on a remote to prop his head up. He stuck the cup under Stephen's lips and he was relieved to feel the cool water brush past his palate. He swallowed quickly.

"Why am I here?" he whispered, his voice breaking.

"You fell off a chair when you were trying to hang a picture in your office at work," one of the nurses explained as she read his charts. Stephen looked down at the straps that were stretched across his legs and torso, then the thin, white cotton hospital gown he was wearing with small blue flowers printed on it.

"Why am I strapped to the bed?"

"We didn't want you to move right away, because you took quite a blow to the head when you fell. You lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion."

Stephen then noticed the needle jutting out from the crook of his arm that was attached to a tube which was connected to an IV bag. He was also attached to an array of beeping monitors, and his head felt like it was being squeezed. His left arm was in a clean, white cast again stretching from his wrist to his forearm, but he didn't feel that anymore either thanks to the drip, drip, drippy thing that was feeding him happy meds through a tube.

"Do I have to be strapped down anymore?" he asked drowsily. He could barely keep his eyes open any longer, and him being strapped to the bed made it seem like some kind of bad porno movie in all the pain he was in.

"No, I guess not, but try not to move around too much," the dark-haired doctor said as he gestured to the nurses to unbuckle the straps.

Stephen looked up at the ceiling for a moment to try to remember what exactly happened, but he was drawing a blank on most of it. He just recalled that gorgeous Jon's voice soothing him…

"Is someone in here looking for a Stephen Colbert?" a young, blond nurse asked from the doorway of the dingy waiting room. Jon immediately dropped the magazine and stood up.

"I… I'm his… brother," he stuttered.

"Well, Doctor Smithson is allowing visitors for him now," she explained.

Jon finally took a deep breath and began to follow her down the bleach-white corridors that smelled of a horrid disinfectant. He absolutely hated the look and smell of hospitals: it reminded him of the nearing possibility of death. His eyes were red and bloodshot, partly from crying about Stephen and also on account of the horrible hospital smell, and the nurse almost seemed a little concerned about his appearance.

"Okay, he's right in this room. Room 225," she said as she opened the steel door.

As Jon stepped into the dimly-lit room where all the curtains were drawn and quickly brushed past the empty bed where a roommate could move in. Just past the dingy curtain, he found his dear friend wrapped up in bandages, his eyelids slightly swollen, and his handsome brown eyes shut off from the rest of the world.

"Stephen?" the nurse asked, "You have a visitor."

Stephen slowly opened his eyes and stared blankly over to Jon. His expression seemed to brighten a little when their gazes met, but he soon winced in pain when he tried to move.

"Jon…" he gasped, "Thanks for coming."

Jon briskly pulled up a chair next to the right side of the bed. Stephen was pretty beat-up, but that smile of his could always brighten his day. The color had somewhat returned to his face, and the doctors and nurses had cleaned him up. The nurse took one last look at his monitors before exiting.

"Nice to see you, buddy," Jon murmured.

"Were you there when this happened to me?"

Jon thought for a moment and reached out to grasp his uninjured hand. He stroked the back of his hand with his thumb until he felt Stephen tighten his grip.

"Were you there?" Stephen asked again.

"Yeah… yes I was," Jon replied as he pulled back his hand. "I'm… I'm sorry…"

"For what?"

Jon looked at Stephen blankly. He was never one to hold hands with other guys before, so why wasn't he phased by it now?

"I'm… I'm just sorry this happened to you."

"Oh, yeah, me too. I hope I heal soon so I can get back to work."

Jon glanced at Stephen's right arm, and it had a stitched gash that was about three inches long covered up with a thick pad of gauze, then an IV needle jutting from the crook of his arm.

"I think you will, Stephen. Just hang in there. Evie is on her way to see you right now."

A flash of confusion struck across Stephen's face in an instant. He thought for a moment before replying.

"Evie? Who is Evie?" he said in a serious tone.

Jon was almost certain he was just playing a joke, so he shook it off and even giggled a little.

"Come on, that's not very nice."

"No, seriously, who is she?"

Jon started to grow concerned. Does he have amnesia? But if that's the case, why the hell would he remember me and not his wife? he thought.

"She…" he began, not quite knowing where to go. He decided to change the subject instead, "How do you feel? You don't hurt too much, do you?"

He shook his head slightly. "No, not really if I stay still."

"Do you need anything? I'll go get it for you," Jon offered.

"I am thirsty. Maybe another cup of water?"

"Okay, I'll go get some."

With that, Jon briskly headed down the hallway, trying to find the water cooler, but mostly trying to spot the nurse who led him in there. He needed to know if Stephen had a severe concussion and couldn't remember certain things about his life, because it would be quite awkward if Evie showed up and he had no recollection of her. He spotted her at the nurse's station, scribbling on a clipboard, and he flagged her down to catch her attention.

"What is it?" she asked, looking highly concerned. "Is there something wrong with Stephen?"

"Yes… well, sort of… he doesn't remember his wife…"

"I'll have to get Dr. Smithson to examine him again. We weren't sure if he had amnesia or not when he first woke up, because he seemed so alert!"

"Wait a minute… you're telling me that you were just going to let visitors in there… his kids, his wife, without knowing if he'll even recognize them?!" Jon spat.

"Sir, I understand your concern, and I will get Dr. Smithson right away…"

She padded down the hallway with her clipboard in hand without taking even a second look at Jon. If she had, she probably would have been terrified at the pissy look he was giving every person of the hospital staff. He ran his fingers through his silvery hair for a moment as he backed against the wall. He couldn't believe that this was happening to his best friend, and he didn't know if he'd ever get his memory back to where it once was.


	2. Chapter 2

Stephen had asked the kind nurse to close the curtains for him, because the bright afternoon sunlight was beginning to give him a headache. He was usually one to spend sunny days outside with his wife and kids on weekends, but he couldn't recall any of that now. He tilted his head away from the door leading to the hallway, because he was sick and tired of all the nurses popping in and out checking his blood pressure and asking him if he needed anything. He had only been there for a few hours and was already planning his escape.

Who in the hell is Evie? he thought as he softly closed his eyes. He couldn't see much detail with them anyway without his corrective lenses. I don't remember Jon mentioning Evie before…

Suddenly his eyes snapped open again. His plan to make the nurses think that he was sleeping wasn't going to work that way. He looked up to find a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, but she wasn't dressed in the usual hospital scrubs.

Come on, did they send a fucking psychologist to analyze me now? When can I just get some fucking sleep? he thought. Well, on second thought, if she's a psychiatrist, maybe she could prescribe me some good sleeping pills… 

"Stephen!" she cried as she sat down next to his bed and began to stroke his hand, being sure not to knock over any of the beeping monitors and such. "I'm so glad you're okay!"

"I… uh… I don't think 'okay' is the proper word…" he groaned, in hopes of securing a prescription to a higher dose of pain medication. He did find it a little odd that she was stroking his hand, though. The feeling of it wasn't the same as when Jon touched his hand so warmly a few minutes before.

"Do you want me to let you sleep for awhile, Sweetie?" she asked, noticing his angered expression.

"Well, I am pretty tired!" he faked a smile as he pondered her prior statement: Sweetie? What the hell is that all about?

"I'll go grab some lunch and let you rest, then. I'm sorry I bothered you."

With that, she leaned over his bed and kissed him on the lips softly, being careful not to bump the bandaged wound on his forehead. His eyes widened as she walked out.

What kind of hospital is this? Do all the nurses just kiss their patients like that?!

Stephen wracked his brain for five minutes until he spotted a blurry figure waltz through the doorway that appeared to be Jon.

"Here's your water," he said as he pulled up a chair again and handed him the full cup. Stephen's hand trembled slightly as he reached out and grasped it, then moved it to his lips and took a long sip.

"Awww… shit…" he sighed heavily as he placed the cup on the bedside table before tiredly rubbing his eyes.

"What? Does the water taste that bad?" Jon smirked.

"No, it's not that… a nurse was just in here… well, at least I think she was a nurse, but maybe one of those liberal psychiatrists or something… and she leaned down and kissed me before she left the room!"

A flash of confusion flushed over Jon's face as he heard this.

"What the hell kind of hospital is this?" he questioned without thinking of his friend's condition.

"That's what I wanted to know! I mean, she was kind of pretty, but still… it's not professional."

"Seduced in a hospital… almost sounds like the plot of a porn flick, doesn't it?" Jon laughed.

"It's not fucking funny!" Stephen snapped as he grasped Jon's hand. "I don't want that kind of thing here! I just want to get better and get out!"

Jon's attention wasn't grasping the words that were coming out of Stephen's mouth: it was on his hand being covered by Stephen's. It felt soft, warm and welcoming, but Jon still didn't know what the hell was going on, so he just left it there. His friend needed him after all, and a little man-on-man handholding between friends couldn't hurt after all, could it?

"I don't want to be here," Stephen sighed as he tugged at a loose string on his ill-fitting hospital gown.

"I know, but you've got to stay for a while so they can run some more tests… Maybe they'll let me take you outside or something when you get better."

"The sun gives me a headache now."

"I'm sorry… maybe we can go out when you feel better."

His expression brightened slightly before asking, "Go out? You and me?"

Jon looked down at his hand again to find his fingers lovingly entwined with Stephen's. Does he seriously like me… like that? What kind of meds did they put him on? Jon asked himself. No, it just couldn't be. Stephen loved his wife, his kids, and everything about his life before, and a touch of amnesia wasn't about to ruin it for him.

"Stephen…" he sighed, "What do you remember… about us?"

"Us?" he repeated. "Well, I remember that one night when we both stayed in the office really late one night and shared a piece of pizza together when everyone else went home… and I remember biting you on the ear, or something... at some awards show."

"That really hurt, too," he explained with a smirk before realizing the extent of Stephen's answer, along with the tightened grip on his hand and the beautiful smile on his face. He shot him a quick, unknowing glare that actually made him jump slightly.

"Is that all you remember?!" Jon snapped

"Yes… that's about it," he replied timidly as he slid further under the sheets. "Why? Is there more that I should remember?"

He wanted to just shake some sense into him and tell him that he should be remembering his wife and kids, and hopefully someday, his anniversary and his family members' birthdays, but Stephen was too frail to break the news to.

"No," he replied, his deep voice almost a whisper in the dark, "it'll all come back to you…someday. I should really just let you rest…"

Jon stood up from his chair and loosed Stephen's vise-like grip on his hand before heading for the door.

"What is it you're not telling me?" Stephen cried with a worried expression.

"Nothing, I just want you to get some sleep," Jon sputtered as he quickly slipped through the door without another word.

"Jon! Jon! Come back here!" Stephen called out.

It was going to be one hell of a long day.

When Jon arrived at the fifth floor hospital cafeteria, he just wanted a simple cup of coffee. Actually, it felt more like he was in need of a stiff drink, but a quick shot of espresso would have to do considering the location. Steam uncurled through the hole in the lid of the paper cup as he also examined the cookie selection before choosing a delicious, chewy, chocolate chip delight. He paid for the items before heading out into the eating area, which was quite outdated in the decorating with wooden paneling walls, framed paintings of fruit every few feet, and simple wooden tables and kitchen chairs. The tables were mostly occupied by doctors and nurses in blue-green hospital scrubs, but there was an occasional family member of a patient. He found the most important one in the room, the person he desperately needed to talk to, seated at a table in the corner with her nose buried in a book: Evelyn.

"Evie!" Jon called out as he headed in her direction with his meal in hand. She looked up to see him, and quickly ushered him over. Jon sat down across the table and looked deeply into her eyes.

"Evie, I'm sorry you had to see him like that…" he sputtered.

"He doesn't remember me right now, does he?" she said solemnly as he glanced back down at the table. Jon was taken off guard by her abrupt question.

"Well… to be honest, no… not right now… but he will!" he replied hopefully.

"I just don't understand. He knows you just fine?"

"Yeah… it's strange. I don't know how that ever happened, but I've talked with the doctors and they say that his memory should come back within a couple weeks."

"A couple weeks?" she cried, a single tear rolling down her cheek, "I want my husband back, the one that will kiss the kids goodnight and actually remember who I am! Does he even remember our children?"

"I really don't know," he reached across the table and grasped her hand just as he had done with Stephen's, "but I think it'll all come back to him soon."

Evie swiped away her tears with the back of her other hand.

"I hope so… because he seemed really out of it when I saw him."

Jon let go of Evie's right hand and broke his chocolate chip cookie in half, and offered one half to her.

"Want some?" he said with a slight smirk to hopefully lighten the mood.

"Thanks," she replied as she grabbed it. They took the first bite at the same time and sighed simultaneously, partly for the deliciousness of the cookie, part for the mental unrest of their beloved friend and husband.

Jon and Evie walked side by side down the long, white hallways in the wing where Stephen was located. They were going to ask the doctor for all the information they needed before going back in there, and they weren't going to settle for any less. They had the nurse's station call him down from his many emergency calls, and fifteen minutes later, he showed up.

"I don't have much time to talk…"

"We need you to answer our questions," Evie pleaded, "Stephen doesn't remember me at all!"

"Your husband Stephen took a pretty hard blow to the head, which caused a serious concussion. By my timeline, I think that his memory will come back fully within the next two weeks or so, but until then, he needs to stay here for a couple days before going home."

"Home? How is it home for him when he doesn't even remember what his real home is like?" Jon snapped.

"Well, only time will tell, but I've seen a few cases like this before where the patient improves if they are exposed to the people and places they do remember, then they start to ease back into their everyday life."

"The only person he seems to remember is Jon, and he can't…"

"Evie, I can talk to him and ask him, maybe where his favorite place is, so we can go there to refresh his memory for a while."

"You don't have to do that, Jon, I couldn't ask you to," another tear rolled down her cheek.

"I want to. I really want to see Stephen regain his memory, and if this is the way we have to go, I'll do it."

Evie wiped away her tears as she nodded to the doctor and thanked him as he walked away to examine another patient. She hadn't felt so much worry in her entire life, and now it seemed like her life with the man she loved so much was hanging in the balance.

Without the use of his glasses, Stephen's life was a living hell. The blurred images of life around him gave him a splitting headache more than bright sunlight, and he just wished someone would grant him some corrective lenses as he laid painfully in bed, his bare feet propped up on a pillow at the end of his mattress. Just anything, even a monocle would do, even if he did look like the Planter's Peanut with his swollen, bandaged skull.

Just as Stephen was about to reach for another sip of water from the paper cup that Jon had so kindly brought him, he heard the usual shuffling footsteps coming into his room from behind the curtain. He swiftly sank beneath the covers and closed his eyes in hopes of helping his throbbing head, only to hear Jon's voice call out to him once again.

"Stephen, wake up!" he prompted.

Stephen jumped up quickly and almost made Jon shudder. He was haphazardly sprawled across the bed, and it looked like he was pretty close to falling on the cold tile floor, which would pull all the curled wires and cords he was sporting loose.

"Get me out of this hellhole!" he screamed as he flailed his heavily-bandaged arms, the IV tubes wavering with them.

Jon couldn't help but laugh, and he was actually glad he did when he saw a small smirk crease from Stephen for the first time since the accident.

"What's up, Jon? You were gone for a pretty long time," he said, his brown eyes shining. More of his medication must have been kicking in, to go from a screaming fit to totally calm in a matter of moments.

"Oh, I went to the cafeteria to grab something to eat… I didn't have much for breakfast."

"Do they have good food up there? The nurse just brought me some Jell-O to eat, and it tasted like shit," he laughed.

"Really? How could they screw that up?"

"I have no idea… it was sort of runny," he cringed as he gestured over to his bedside table.

Jon looked over to see the gelatinous red mass on a tray, surrounded by a mote of crimson liquid.

"It looks pretty bad," he commented.

Stephen rubbed his eyes in hopes of soothing his horrible headache, but nothing was working.

"When can I get out of here?"

"That's really what I came in here to talk to you about. I want to know where your favorite place is, so maybe we could take a little vacation there when you get out!"

His facial expression immediately brightened again, flashing that 1,000-watt grin.

"Do you really mean that, or are you just teasing me?"

"No, I'm serious! I'll take off work, and we'll take a road trip to anywhere you want."

Stephen stared longingly at the ceiling for a moment before making his choice: "I want to go back to South Carolina for a while… maybe rent a nice little cottage on the beach or something for the week."

Jon knew that Stephen had always loved his home state of South Carolina. He was even considered the state's favorite son now.

"Okay, I'll make all the arrangements," Jon agreed with a grin. He reached out to shake his hand, and Stephen weakly grasped it and smiled again.

"Thank you, Jon."

"You're welcome, Stephen."

Jon spent another two hours by Stephen's side, just talking about things that don't matter, like the weather outside and the Mets' horrible win/loss record, until he returned home to Tracy and the kids when it was long after dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a bit of a warning: I did absolutely no research on amnesia, and this entire story was just a random idea that I decided on a whim to write. So yes, please forgive me for any inaccuracies.

"Hey, Trace, I'm home!" Jon called out as he entered the dimly-lit but well-decorated apartment. Tracey stepped out of the kitchen to greet him as she wiped the last dish clean with a white wash rag. Nate and Maggie could be heard quietly giggling in the other room.

"Hey, Hon," she greeted as she kissed him quickly on the lips. "I heard about Stephen."

"Really? From who?" Jon asked, surprised.

"John called. He told me the whole story… I feel so bad for him! How's he doing?"

"He doesn't look too pretty, but he's okay, I guess. He's got a broken wrist and a few cuts and scrapes that needed stitches, and a pretty bad concussion."

"A concussion? How bad?"

"He…" Jon paused to think about his statement, "he doesn't remember much… he doesn't even remember Evie, or the kids, but he remembers me."

"Oh my God… seriously?" the rag that had been in her hand dropped to the floor.

"Yeah…" he replied sheepishly, "but the doctor thinks it'll all come back to him in a matter of weeks."

"How is he going to go home like that? Without recognizing Evie and the kids?"

"That's actually what I was just going to tell you about," he began, "The doctor said he should spend time with people he does recognize, and visit places he remembers, to speed the process along a little bit."

"So… what are you saying… he's going to stay with us? I mean, we've got an extra bed and everything…"

"Uh, I actually offered to take him down to South Carolina, you know, just to visit the beach, maybe rent a little beach house for a week or something. He always likes going down there on vacation. The Lowlands down by Charleston are his favorite."

Tracey's face brightened. "You're going to nurse Stephen back to health? All by yourself?"

"Yeah, he'll be okay with me…"

"You can barely remember to feed the goldfish when I'm not around!" she giggled. "Please, you can take him down there, but all I ask of you is to answer my daily phone calls so I can remind you to feed Stephen three square meals a day!"

"Oh, come on, we'll be just fine," Jon smiled.

"So, I guess you'd better start making those reservations for that beach house before it all fills up!"

Jon walked into the bedroom and grabbed his laptop off the desk before plopping down onto the soft mattress. He quickly flicked it open, logged on, opened up a web browser and began searching for the perfect, picturesque vacation location on the beaches of South Carolina. He eventually found a nice little cottage on the beachfront far away from the big city that offered "A beautiful view," "two spacious bedrooms," and "a nearby restaurant," which Jon thought would be perfect, considering he wasn't exactly a professional chef. The sand, the surf, and the house looked great, so Jon immediately contacted the resort and reserved an opening for the next week. That would allow about three days for Stephen's hospital care, if need be, and if he came home a little early, he could stay with Jon and Tracey for a night.

"I found something!" Jon called out to Tracey as he poured over the photographs of the vacation home. Tracey came in seconds later and sat down on the bed next to him as he wrapped his arm tightly around her waist.

"Look at this… this is perfect," Jon gushed as he tilted the screen in her direction.

"Oh, that is cute!" she agreed with a beautiful smile, "I love the little screened-in porch facing the ocean!"

"Yeah, it's... cute. I think we can have fun there. Get off work for a week, have a guy's vacation…"

"I hope you guys have fun, because Stephen certainly deserves it right now."

"Yeah, he sure does."

Jon returned to business as usual the next morning, donning his sleek business suit as he sipped his cup of coffee while looking over scripts. His sudden absence the day before led the network to air a rerun instead, and Jon knew he would have to return quickly before the rumor mill started up too heavily. If he was gone for more than two days he knew he'd probably find an article about him somewhere reporting that he ended up in rehab with a sex and drug addiction or something.

None of the other correspondents had visited Stephen yet, as Jon had warned them about his condition. They obeyed and stayed away from the hospital, but were sure to order a nice bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, or a patriotically-dressed teddy bear to be sent to his hospital room as soon as possible. John Oliver was the first to place his order, being the first one other than Jon to have seen the severity of his fall. He had called Jon the night before, along with everyone else at Comedy Central, to ask about his condition when Jon explained the whole ordeal. The network cleared Jon and Stephen's vacation time, telling them to "take all the time you need." Jon was beginning to feel a little frazzled by all the phone calls, and he couldn't really imagine all the calls Evie and the kids were getting at home. Stephen had a huge family, and if just one caught wind of the story, whether some facts were skewed or not, they would surely be calling to get all the details.

"Have you heard anything else about Stephen?" John asked with a concerned look.

"I visited with him for quite a while yesterday… as far as I know he's still doing fine."

"That's good. Me and the other guys sent over some flowers and stuff… get well soon cards and all that."

"That was nice of you guys. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"If he still remembers us…"

"If not, he definitely will soon," Jon sighed as he looked into his cup of coffee.

At least I hope he does, he thought to himself.

Jon had quickly finished the day's episode and the writing meetings for the next day so he could run down to the hospital and visit his dear friend. After a change of clothes (the usual gray t-shirt and khaki pants), he walked down the street toward the nearest deli. Inside, he ordered he and Stephen sandwiches and cups of soup to bring to him for lunch, knowing that hospital food was just one tiny step above prison fare. He clutched the two bags tightly in hand as he strolled down the street with the sun shining brightly on his face for another three blocks.

The pleasant aroma of the warm lunch was cut short as soon as Jon stepped into the hospital again. The sickening scent of disinfectant and the faint smell of blood overpowered the deliciousness, and it almost made Jon want to throw up. He weakly waved to the nurses at the nurse's station as he strode confidently toward Stephen's room.

Jon quietly entered room 225 after noticing that the other bed behind the curtain was now occupied by a middle-aged man who was snoring soundly. Jon went behind the tightly-shut curtain to find Stephen propped up in bed with the sun surprisingly streaming through the thick glass windows. His eyes were fixed on a crossword puzzle in the newspaper in front of him, and Evie had apparently dropped off a spare pair of glasses, as they were perched high on his nose again.

"Jon," he whispered softly with a smile, putting down the paper and pen. "Nice to see you."

"Wow… you're looking well," Jon commented. The color had returned to his skin, and the stark white bandages on his arms and head now seemed much lighter than his skin color, unlike it had been the day before. The IV needles had been removed from his arms, along with the rest of the beeping monitors.

"Thanks… but I've got this roommate now, and he snores so goddamn loud!" he laughed just as the mysterious light-haired roommate let out a loud snort in his sleep. "I just want to get out of this room for awhile… the nurses said it would be okay if someone took me outside in a wheelchair."

"Have you been walking around yet?" Jon asked curiously.

"Yeah, I can walk around a little bit, but I start to get dizzy and my head hurts when I do too much."

Jon caught the hint. "I can get a wheelchair if you want and we can go eat in this sunroom that I saw on the other wing… then maybe take a stroll outside or something if you're ready."

For the first time since Jon's arrival, Stephen eyed the two bags of takeout food that he was holding.

"I thought I smelled something good," he grinned, "And thank you for coming to save me, because this food tastes like shit."

"Oh, what's on the menu today?"

"Stewed tomatoes." Both of them gagged simultaneously.

"Seriously?" Jon gasped. "I wouldn't eat that." "I'm glad you brought something else."

With that, Jon got up and sauntered out into the hallway, where he met one of the nurses who was about to enter to probably make sure that the two patients were still breathing.

"Hello," she greeted kindly with a smile.

"Hi," Jon replied, "I was wondering… would it be okay if I got a wheelchair and took Stephen outside for awhile… you know, to get some fresh air?"

"Um, yeah, he's doesn't have any intravenous needles in him anymore, so he can go out for a while. Just don't go too far… and you have to sign him out first."

"Thank you," Jon replied as he signed the clipboard she had handed him. He then rushed off to grab a wheelchair from by the nurse's station and jogged back with it in front of him to keep the food from getting too cold.

"Need help getting up?" Jon asked his friend, offering a hand.

Stephen flipped off the covers and swung his feet over the side of the bed, cautiously taking his first steps. His bare legs were shaky, so Jon held a sturdy grip on his arm as he guided him to sit down.

"Should I really go out wearing this?" Stephen muttered, "Half of my ass sticks out in the back!"

"As long as you don't stand up, I think you'll be fine," Jon laughed.

"Oh, God…"

"Just cross your legs, Nancy, and you'll be golden!"

Jon rocked Stephen's wheelchair back and ran out of the room popping a wheelie. Stephen was hollering all the way down the hall on account of the speed they were going, and they nearly took out another patient that wasn't lucky enough to have someone pushing their wheelchair. Jon gripped Stephen's shoulders, which were bare from the deep neck on the thin cotton gown, and accelerated even faster.

"Weeee!" Stephen yelled once they were out of earshot from the nurse's station. "Jesus, Jon! Don't flip the fucking chair over!"

They made it to the beautifully-decorated sunroom in a matter of seconds. It had many chairs and tables with books, magazines, and puzzles perched on them, and the room was painted a cheery shade of yellow. Jon rolled Stephen over to the window where they could see across Manhattan and directly to the Statue of Liberty. Stephen just gazed out the window down at the street, where hundreds of people looked like mere tiny ants. Feeling taken in by the situation, Stephen reached up and wrapped his arm around Jon's, which almost made him jump a little. His warm touch was nice, but it was so unlike Stephen's usual personality. Stephen gripped his arm tightly across his chest, pulling him close, and slowly Jon's hand headed down the collar of Stephen's shirt to his bare chest covered in a light dusting of dark hair.

"What are you doing, Stephen?" Jon whispered, careful not to let anyone else hear.

"I like you, Jon."

"And I like you, too, Stephen…" Jon was about to add, 'but not like that,' but that statement wouldn't be entirely true. Jon had always viewed Stephen as a very attractive man, the way his dark hair flowed just right and the way those deep brown, sorrowful eyes stared longingly back at him. They were looking at him now, and it almost seemed like they were burning his heart. Jon had never told anyone that he was attracted to his co-worker, and apparently neither did Stephen. It would be wrong for a romantic relationship to happen between them. They were married with five beautiful children between them, and their wives were caring, compassionate women.

The conversation ended there, and Stephen let go of Jon's arm. Jon walked over to a stack of outdated issues of National Geographic, and grabbed a board game: Life. 

"Want to play this after we eat?" Jon asked, holding up the box for him to see. It pained Stephen to turn his neck from the window, but he did slowly, and nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine."

Jon wheeled Stephen closer to a table and set the bags of food down. He pulled up a chair and sat across from him silently before looking up to find Stephen watching him intently.

"I brought you a turkey sandwich on wheat… with chicken noodle soup… it was the soup of the day," Jon said finally. He handed Stephen the carefully-wrapped sandwich and Styrofoam cup of soup, and Stephen immediately flipped the plastic lid off the steaming hot liquid. Jon handed him a spoon before he could lap it up like a cat or something, and he took a long slurp.

"Wow.. That's still hot…" he said, blowing slightly on the next spoonful, "but it's pretty good."

Jon took a bite out of his sandwich and nodded before wiping the corners of his mouth to speak.

"I've always liked their soup."

Stephen's eyes met his glance for a moment and Jon immediately paused.

"What?" Jon giggled at Stephen's steely gaze.

"I've always liked you, Jon," he said finally with a meek grin, repeating what he had just revealed by the window.

Jon wanted to smile and agree with him deep down, but he knew he just couldn't do that. Instead, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a printed page detailing the specifics of the vacation they would be taking together the next week. Offering a weeklong vacation wasn't exactly a way of letting Stephen down, Jon thought, but those feelings would have to be dealt with later.

"What's that?" Stephen said as he looked down at the piece of paper.

"Next week… we're going on vacation! To South Carolina… the beach!" Jon cheered almost a little too eagerly. "I reserved this beach house for us."

"A beach house?" he questioned as he stared at the paper. "It looks pretty nice to me. I need to get away for awhile, but what about work?"

"I took the week off for the both of us."

Stephen put the spoon back in the empty cup of soup he had devoured so quickly, placed his hands behind his head, and took a deep breath, entranced in thought. He closed his eyes for a moment as Jon awaited his reply.

"That sounds great," he answered, smoothing out his ruffled dark hair on the top of his head above the bandages. "Now I just need to get out of here by then."

"I think you'll enjoy it," Jon replied before taking another bite of his sandwich. "Plus it's got satellite TV in case it rains."

Stephen wasn't about to stop Jon from whisking him away to a breezy vacation in his home state. He wanted to go back home, to clear his mind for awhile and to regain his thoughts. He figured he had sustained a pretty bad case of brain trauma considering his room was now filled with gifts and flowers from people he didn't remember. Maybe they were just dedicated fans, but he was starting to think about certain things. He was beginning to remember certain things about Jon's life… his family. Were those his kids? Stephen didn't know, his mind was still in a fog.

He and Jon spent the rest of the afternoon in the sunroom together as they played a few games of Life. Stephen's tiny plastic car game piece was always filled with the most kids, to which Jon laughed and said, "You Catholics and your huge brood of kids."

Stephen looked down at the red car, now jam-packed with tiny blue and pink pegs, so many that some were stacked on top of one another in a pyramid shape. Jon became a little uneasy but just a little bit excited when Stephen choose a blue peg as his spouse when they landed on the mandatory marriage space. He looked up and gave Jon a precarious glance before putting the tiny peg into its rightful space in the passengers seat. He almost looked a little heartbroken to find that Jon had placed a bright pink peg in his blue car.

"Who's that supposed to be?" he asked, almost snidely as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's…" Jon wracked his brain for what he should answer. It would have been wise to explain to Stephen who Tracey was, especially if Stephen would have to live in their home for a few days before the trip, but Jon just couldn't come up with the words to tell him. He quickly removed the pink peg and replaced it with a blue one. Stephen leaned back in his chair, arms still crossed, and cocked an eyebrow at Jon before smiling his beautiful smile.

"Is that better?" Jon asked nervously.

"Yes," he laughed as he watched Jon spin the rainbow spinner to see what he would have to pay for a honeymoon prize to Jon. Then it hit him as hard as a wall of bricks: Jon was married to someone… a woman. What was her name? Terri? T-Tammy? Tracey. That was it. Tracey. And they had kids. Nate and Maggie. Stephen all of a sudden felt sick. He really loved Jon, but it was difficult for him to decipher where exactly those feelings were coming from at that moment.

The game went on for another hour as both of them collected children, paid for "fine art," and engaged in winning Nobel Peace Prizes as their game pieces circled the board. The sun was visibly beginning to dim outside as it sunk below the horizon again, sending streaks of orange, yellow, and pink across the New York skyline. They reached the last space on the board, retirement, and began counting the money they had collected throughout the game.

"You know what?" Stephen asked out of the blue as he watched Jon finish counting his colorful money, "I'm keeping my promise."

"What? What promise is that?" Jon said with a smile before realizing he had lost his count again.

"The day that you retire from The Daily Show, I'll retire from The Report."

Jon placed the fistful of play money on the table and looked at Stephen's sincere smile.

"Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it."


End file.
